Joanna
by art.nerd
Summary: The crew of The Enterprise goes out for a night at the theatre.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE.

"Bullshit." Kirk said indignantly as he grimaced at the datapad.

Spock offered to clear things up. "Actually, Captain, it is a course description of the Classical Theatre class that all Senior Starfleet officers are required to take after a certain period of service."

Kirk was still skeptical. "You mean…plays? Like…_Hamlet,_ and shit?"

Scrolling through the datapad, Spock confirmed this. "Indeed, that happens to be one of the required viewing pieces. Surely you are not unwilling to partake in this opportunity to enrich your understanding of your own native culture?" he said, almost as if he was issuing a challenge.

"Pft…no." He waved a hand, and if swatting away a fly. A fly that was buzzing in his ear. And the buzzing seemed to sound alarmingly like "To be, or not to be..."

"It's just that that stuff is so…_boring_. I'm a Starship Captain; what do I need to see plays for?" Again, Spock readily supplied a response. "I believe the intent is to familiarize you with common underlying themes that are, and have been, present in Human thought and behavior. I trust you are familiar with the phrase 'Art imitates life?' Logically, exposing you to classic works of theatre will further your understanding of such matters."

"So you're saying that watching a bunch of old dudes run around on a stage pretending to do stuff is supposed to make me a better Captain?" he said, just to clarify.

And apparently it was, because he saw that there was a Top Priority label placed at the head of the class description. "Well…what the hell. I guess we're gonna go see some plays. But there's no way I'm going alone—Spock, you're coming too." Spock seemed a bit taken aback. Kirk noted his reluctance, and stated "And I trust that _you're_ familiar with the phrase 'Misery loves company.' Right?" he favored his First Officer with a smug grin, knowing that he had roped him into it.

Just as he was signing his name on the confirmation forms, the door to the bridge slid open and Dr. McCoy stepped onto the deck. "Bones!" Kirk exclaimed. The doctor knew full well that whatever was about to come out f Jim's mouth would drag him into some crazy goddamn scheme that he wanted no part in.

"How would you like to accompany me to..." Kirk trailed off as he glanced back down at the datapad, finding the titles of the shows he was required to watch. "To see…_Sweeney Todd_, and…_Hamlet,_ and _The Glass Menagerie_? Shit, why can't they at least give these things decent titles?" McCoy groaned inwardly. "Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a…a…a thespian! I have a ship full of 432 people that I have to take care of, and you want me to run around with you and watch…_plays?_"

The Captain's expression had not changed. "Uh…yeah, pretty much."

The doctor shook his head in an exasperated manner as Kirk continued his argument. "Come on, we're all due for a bit of shore leave, and…I think it would be a…uh…good opportunity to uh…" he tried to remember how Spock had phrased it. He had a knack for doing that so well. "To, uh, enrich our understanding of our planet's culture by studying classic works of theatre." Yeah…that was good.

Spock, meanwhile, was observing the conversation at a distance, curious to see who would win the battle of wills. And Kirk could clearly see that Bones was not sold on the idea, so he pressed on. "Come on, it's not like I'm asking you to…" he struggled to think of something that doctor would want to do even less than accompany him to the theatre. "To…sleep with Spock or anything." The Vulcan pretended not to hear, and a look of horror flitted across the good doctor's face. Jim laughed aloud at the reactions his statement had provoked.

"Plus, no one on the ship has had so much as a sniffle in at least three months, and most of them are going to be off the ship for shore leave anyways. I think they can survive an evening without you."

McCoy considered the argument. Well, perhaps just this once, he could take the night off. Besides, he hadn't been spending much time with Jim during their off-duty hours lately—he'd been far too busy filing reports according to Starfleet's goddamn new filing system.

"Alright Jim. But only because I feel sorry for your ass." The Captain's visage practically radiated satisfaction.

- - -

At 1700 hours, the Enterprise was in a stable orbit around Earth, and the landing party was already in the transporter room. "What time does this thing start again?" Kirk asked as he tugged at the sleeve of his slightly-too-small dress shirt. As always, Spock quickly replied, "According to the description, the performance is to be gin at 1900 hours." McCoy shifted reluctantly onto the transporter pad; he too was experiencing a certain amount of distress brought on by the "proper theatre attire" that they had been prompted to wear. "Damnit, these things should be considered a health hazard," he said, loosening the collar of his own apparel.

Jim looked over at his two friends. Both were dressed respectably, yet it was ridiculously out of character for both of them. He had to stifle a small giggle.

"What's so damn funny?" Bones demanded. The Captain shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Just…you two. Those outfits look fucking ridiculous." The good doctor shook his head and reminded the Captain that he was dressed exactly the same. Jim pretended not to hear.

Kirk heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, let's get this over with. Ready Scotty?" The Chief Engineer grinned widely at them from behind the transporter console. "Aye sir, energizing."

The last thing the trio saw was Scotty, fighting back a powerful bout of laughter as the gold shimmer swept them towards their destination.

It was hard to tell whether he was laughing because of the sheer hilarity of their clothes, or because a Starship Captain and his senior crew were going to see a fucking _play._


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost 1845 hours before Kirk, Bones and Spock had finally found their seats—any avid theatre-goer would have been thrilled with the third-row-center seats, but to the seasoned space travelers, they were really no different than any other.

Altogether it was a rather surreal situation, but the trio nonetheless tried to blend into the scene…however, some were having an easier time of it than others.

McCoy was evidently having issues with his chair, for he was fidgeting in a very distracting manner. Jim cast a concerned eye over at him. "Uh…everything alright, Bones?" he said warily.

"Its these damn seats! Do you know what two hours in one of these things will do to your back? The least they can do is provide us with a little lumbar support…"

Spock decided to intervene, "If I may suggest, doctor, sitting approximately 3.75 inches further from the base of the seat, so as to create an angle of leverage that would preclude any possibility for discomfort?" The doctor continued to grumble (following the Vulcan's advice, but not being any too happy about it) as Jim laughed to himself and turned to his right to see how Spock was adjusting.

Now sitting ramrod straight in his seat, Spock was intently studying his program. Judging by his ease, if he hadn't known better, Jim would've said that Spock visited theatres quite often. He decided to follow his First Officer's example and opened his program as well.

There were still a few minutes left before the show was to begin, so he decided to actually read it: Tonight's show was _Sweeney Todd_, a musical play first written and performed in the 20th Century. (Wow, when they said "classics" they meant _classics._) And then there were just lists of performers, and stage crewmembers, and a plot synopsis, and blah, blah, bl—wait: what was this? There, in the plot summary, he spotted it: _"…and the Barber seeks his murderous revenge, slitting his customers' throats and having them baked into pies."_

He took a moment to re-read. Finally, in astonishment, he said, "Cool." Hey, maybe he could get used to the theatre. Jim continued to read about the show with a renewed interest, but he was soon interrupted by a shout from his Chief Medical Officer.

"Hey—you. Yeah, you," Bones was beckoning to an usher who was patrolling the aisles. "How much for a beer?" he asked, fishing in his pocket for his wallet.

The usher, who couldn't have been more than 17 or 18, looked puzzled…and maybe even a little scared. "Um…sir, we don't sell beer here. Th-there's no food or drink permitted in the theatre." Bones' eyebrow flew up in a severe display of disbelief. "Oh, is that right? Well, keep that in mind when you're back in here trying to revive me once I've lost consciousness on account of dehydration." The doctor pursed his lips in a very sour manner, and the poor usher looked nothing short of terrified. "Um…yes, sir."

Kirk could plainly see that the kid was suffering from deer-in-the-headlights syndrome, seeing as he hadn't moved from his spot since Bones had yelled at him. And being the kind, gracious, generally awesome Captain that he was, Jim decided to put him out of his misery.

He leaned over Bones so he could address the guy directly. "Hey, um…don't mind my friend here," he gave Bones a friendly pat on the shoulder. 'He's just…grumpy, that's all." At this, McCoy muttered something that didn't sound at all friendly. Jim turned back to the petrified teen. "We're fine here," he said, gracing the usher with one of those winning smiles of his, and then he dismissed him. Judging by the speed with which the boy ran away, it was obvious he was grateful.

Once the usher was out of earshot, Kirk turned to his friend. "Honestly Bones? Beer?" Jim said in an incredulous tone, as if he could not believe how rude his friend was being in so public a place. A large grin then crept over his face and he continued, "At a high-class gathering such as this, one should only consume the finest," and he reached into his pocket to draw out a shining silver flask, full of a certain sweet amber liquid.

Jim only had time to see a glimmer of Bones' smile and hear a second of his laughter before the flask was snatched out of his hands. The doctor took a long swig, and was none to discreet about it, either. And he was careful to be sure that their usher-friend got an eyeful, seeing if he was foolish enough to come back for more.

Obviously the usher had at least _some_ sense, for, despite the fact that he plainly saw McCoy taking a drink, he turned the other way and hurried down an aisle that was very, very far away from them.

Just for good measure, Jim also added, "And just for the record, it _baseball games_ where they bring you beer in your seat."

A few more minutes passed as they waited for show-time to come. For the most part, they each kept to themselves, individually finding ways to twiddle their metaphorical thumbs. But after about 3 minutes, the dead air was just too much for Jim. He needed to bother somebody.

Noticing that his Vulcan was being distant…well, more so than usual, Kirk decided to check on Spock. "So, what'd'ya think?" The Vulcan raised an eyebrow and replied, "Of what, specifically?" Jim shrugged, "I dunno, just…everything." He motioned to the scene around them.

"It is…fascinating." To be honest, Jim was actually a little disappointed by the generic response. "That's all? Fascinating? I would've expected something a bit more…" he shook his head and shrugged a bit, unable to find the words.

"I apologize. I merely desired to minimize conversation, as I believe the performance is about to begin." And sure enough, just then the lights began to dim and the audience's conversations fizzled out into a flurry of whispers and "shhhh"s.

Bracing himself for the two hours that were about to come, Jim glanced at each of his friends sitting on either side of him. "Well, here goes nothing," he said to them.

Spock merely responded with a curt nod, choosing to focus his attention on the stage, and Bones just raised an eyebrow and took another drink from the flask.

Privately, they each of them wondered what the hell they were doing there. They were Captains, and doctors, and scientists—what business did they have here? (Oh, right: Starfleet orders.) It took another second for each to realize that they were…nervous?

It was strange that three men such as themselves should be apprehensive about something as domestic as seeing a play. _Seriously,_ Jim thought, _we've been to the far side of the fucking galaxy; we can handle a little play_.

But then again…it was as foreign to them as any alien planet they had ever visited; they really had no idea what to expect.

From an outsider's perspective, the whole situation would probably seem rather ironic and hilarious: three Senior Starfleet Officers, dressed up like they were going to a wedding, sitting in the third row of a theatre, about to watch a musical. Yes, definitely hilarious.

All three of them stiffened in their seats as the crimson curtain went up.


End file.
